


An explosive night (when you walked into my life)

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [33]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25531240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: When Sansa gifts Brienne the perfect end to her birthday, her imagination begins to run wild in anticipation. What she doesn’t expect, however, is her longtime secret crush she’s content with admiring from afar, landing up at her doorstep.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 10
Kudos: 107





	An explosive night (when you walked into my life)

“Hi, I’m Jaime.”

When Sansa had talked Brienne into complying with her crazy idea, _this_ was the last thing she’d expected. An explosive end to her birthday, her friend had assured it would be, and while she had been skeptical about the preposterous plan, making up excuses in her head all evening to wriggle out of this, the prospect of spending the night with an escort didn’t seem all that strange now.

“I’m Brienne.”

“I know.” Green eyes were all over her, keen and appraising.

“Right.” Trying not to stare too hard, Brienne wiped her palm on her pajamas. So his name was Jaime. The guy she’d been secretly admiring at the pub for months now stood at her doorstep, here on her birthday only for her, to pleasure her, to give her the night of her life, all hers—

He cleared his throat. “We need to be on the same side of the door to do this,” he quipped, wearing a cocky grin—one that made the hair along her arms stand up, his expression a mix of amusement and enthusiasm.

 _Not interested,_ she wanted to say, and see him off with a polite thanks and an apology as she’d been contemplating, but a feeble, “Yeah,” she replied with before stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry—” Her heart drummed against her rib cage faster than when she’d been let in on the surprise when she led him to the couch. “Drink? I just have beer—”

“Beer will be fine.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, and once out of his sight, she took in huge gulps of air, desperate to collect herself. _All you need is a good time._ Her hands shaking, she pulled out two beers from the fridge, Sansa’s naughty smile and her sly reveal of her _birthday gift_ ringing in her ears. _Something to loosen you up, to shake you out of this dullness._

The drinks, she had hoped, would break the ice, but it did nothing to calm her down. Her companion for the evening seemed to be lost in his own world, and neither of them spoke, the air thick with awkward tension. Sip after sip, she slipped more and more into the past, recalling all the times she’d felt hopelessly jealous on seeing him talking and laughing and dancing with other women. Many nights, she’d dreamed of him, wanted him to ask her out, to do more— _more_ … 

Yet, not mustering the courage to approach him herself, she'd kept a safe distance. 

“I’ve seen you loads of times at Fire-n-ice, Brienne.”

She plucked up the nerve to meet those intrigued eyes.

“You come there most weekends with Sansa—” He put down his empty bottle and edged next to her. “She was the one who—”

“I’ve seen you too,” she admitted, hoping she wasn’t blushing like a teenager. “But you don’t really seem the type—”

“Nor do you.” Jaime raised an eyebrow and smiled, the same confident winning smile charming enough to lure any woman into his bed. He leaned toward her and before she could help it, her eyes strayed to his crotch, a stir of arousal travelling through her when she pictured his erection free of his constraints. “But we’re still here tonight.” There was an edge to his tone, something that took her back to all those nights she lay alone in bed and wondered what it would be like to fuck him, wondering how his naked body would feel against hers. “Together.”

They sat beside each other, close together, not touching. But she could feel his presence as though it were a kiss, the sharp plunge of his cock deep into her. She wanted it now, she longed to run her fingers through his hair, and to reach over and undo the fly of his pants and—

“Brienne?”

She shot to her feet. “I’ll get us more drinks.”

And without a glance at his reaction, she fled to the kitchen again, taking refuge behind the fridge to give herself a moment to think. _Fuck!_ What the hell had come over her? She had wanted this so badly, him, the man of her dreams, and when the moment had come, here she was, fumbling around like a sixteen year old about to lose her virginity.

“Listen, Brienne—”

She stiffened, sensing him coming closer, and gripped the drinks harder, her fingers numbing as she pressed into the icy chill. When his breath was upon her neck, she turned, meeting those probing eyes which launched into yet another search into hers.

“We don’t have to do this if you aren’t totally comfortable.” Those eyes, however, sang a different tune, his need, naked, the fire, raging, spreading, intense enough to devour her. No man had ever looked at her like this, and while he left her ablaze and aching, she couldn’t get rid of the nagging _something_ that found this too good to be true. “We could just—”

“I want this,” she said, pushing past her inhibitions to break down the wall. He edged further, no gap between them now, and she pressed her thighs together, anticipation whipping through her. “Touch me, Jaime.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. “Brienne—”

She grabbed him by the shirt. “You think I’m kidding? You think I’m just saying it to say it?”

His pupils darkening, he stroked a delicate finger down her arm. “Like this?” When her lips parted open and her breathing began to quicken, his hand slipped beneath her pajamas, his fingers hooked in her panties. She exhaled deeply, enjoying the sensation of his gliding touch over her skin. She could feel the wetness pool between her thighs soaking her panties, the slow steady thump of blood and raw carnal need pooling in her groin. 

Her clothes suddenly felt out of place. She wanted to be rid of them, to be clothed in _him_. It was getting unbearable—her nipples, hard and pushing into her shirt, straining to be free, a fluttering restlessness in her chest, a mounting ache somewhere deep within her. 

Sensing her urgency, he pulled down her pants, but left her panties on, teasing the bare skin beneath her belly-button, the edge of her panty-line with his fingers. When her grip on his shirt tightened, he tugged down her underwear. And he took his time. Watching her face, a smug gleam taking over his eyes as he enjoyed her agony. He could sense it was driving her mad, turning her on like this, turning her inside out. When he’d gotten her clothes down her knees, he let go of them to let them slide down her calves and gather around her ankles. Arousal flaring through her like hot molten metal at a forge, she stumbled when she tried to step away from her clothes, her knees a little wobbly.

“Easy there.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her—freeing one foot first, then the other. “There. That’s better.”

Taking away the beer bottles from her, he set them aside on the counter. Then, grasping her hips, he gave her a boost and hoisted her up to a perch. Her ass struck the edge of the cold granite, and she gave a little yelp before giggling giddily, not quite believing what she was about to get herself into.

“Let me _touch_ you then, Brienne,” he said, a curl of arousal and heavy intent at the very end of those words.

She watched him grip her thighs and push them wide, and she was sprawled before him, exposed, waiting, wanting—

Locking her in a scorching gaze, he brought his fingers between her legs, brushing them along her folds, teasing her until her hips bucked up a little. “Is this what you were looking for?”

His fingertip settled on her clit and she gave a little sob. Her reaction brought a smug smile of satisfaction to those perfect lips. “I’ll take that as a yes, wench.” He flicked his fingertip gently over her clit and she felt it swell and respond. By the time he was done, her cunt was throbbing, ready and eager. He tested her by pushing two fingers inside her. “Does that feel good?” he asked, curling his fingers against her drenched walls.

“Yes,” she managed, weak and dizzy.

He fucked her like that for what felt like an eternity of torture, using his long, expert fingers as he stared into her eyes. When she whimpered, he went in harder. When she was on the brink of a collapse with an indecent cry, he pressed his mouth to her throat. “Not so soon, my dear.” He dragged his hand up between her breasts and pushed her back, laying her along the smooth surface, and bending, he spread her thighs open and buried his face between them, his tongue strumming her clit over and over until the pressure and friction inside her was building to a maximum, on the verge of tearing her into two—no— _many_ thousand pieces. 

He kept it up, kept going, keeping her on edge. Keeping her off balance. His flicks became whirls and his fingers were back inside her, digging deep, curling often, seeking, reaching, finding, and she pressed her hips forward, pushing greedily against his mouth as his tongue flicked and swirled.

Her pleasures started to soar, her wetness, too, and the need for more, for—

She shoved her hands in his hair and pushed him deeper. She arched her hips to get more of his wet, warm tongue. He grunted, wild with hunger, then went in with all he had, sucking on her clit, drawing on it gently at first, and eventually working up to a frantic suck. She moaned, moving against his hand, hovering there, right on the edge, until he started to fuck her fast and rough, sliding deep, moving fast, working her until she was gripping his shoulders and panting with unbearable pleasure. She came, her toes curling, her voice strangled and desperate, like a trapped bird fighting for respite. He pushed his fingers deeper, curling the tips against her over and over, and then went right back to licking her, gentle, at first, to let her recover, his tongue firm on her clit as soon as she’d steadied herself a bit.

“Is this what you were looking for, wench?” he growled against her mound. 

Shivering, she clutched his hair, another orgasm crashing down on her. He growled and tugged her wrists, sliding her along the counter towards him, cradling her with an arm until her feet touched firm ground. 

“Fuck—” she panted, ripping open his shirt buttons “— _please_ —”

“Please what?” His mouth closed in on a nipple, notes of his voice vibrating through her. “Tell me _exactly_ what you want, wench.”

She tried to get in a deep breath, but failed when his hand pressed up against her folds again, and she groaned, her pussy throbbing to compete with her racing heart. “Fuck me.” She was surprised by the firmness in her voice. “Hard and rough.” If only Sansa could hear her now—

Jaime’s fingers trailed up the inside of her leg again. “Let’s take the rest to the bedroom, shall we?”

The trip to the next room had never felt this tedious before, but by the time they got themselves in there, they’d ensured clothes weren’t in their way anymore, leaving a trail of his shirt, her tee and her bra along the way. Last to go were his shoes, jeans and underwear, tossed to the floor by the foot of the bed. They fell, tangled, onto the bed, naked, hands and mouths all over, wandering and exploring, his ample length, thick and twitching, kissing the inner walls of her thighs.

“Wait—” he drew away when she wrapped her arms around his neck “—condoms—”

“In here.” Stretching her hand, she pulled open a drawer on her nightstand. “I might have a couple—”

“Don’t bother.” He bent to fish out an unopened box from his jeans pocket. “I always come prepared,” he said, throwing her a wink. 

She watched as he unwrapped one and pulled it onto his rock-hard cock, its head shimmering, impatient and dying to get down to business. The sight made her tremble, heat pooling in her cunt at the very thought of having _all_ of that gorgeousness buried in her.

He shoved her down on the bed so suddenly that she let out a yelp, and before she could realize it, she lay sprawled on the bed, the pressure of his body pressing her down in position. Legs wrapped around his ass, she was dying for him to get on with it and fuck her like there was no tomorrow.

His fingers squeezed against her curves, his hand sliding along her front, teasing and caressing her breasts. He plucked at her nearest nipple and she squealed. He sucked on the other nipple and she writhed under him. Then pressing her down with his grip, he slipped into her, slowly, fingernails biting into her skin, then rammed home, balls deep into her. He began pounding, hard enough to leave her breathless, gushing, the room around her spinning despite her attempt to hold herself as still as she could. He was rocking the living daylights out of her, and she cried out, the sensation of her pussy gripping and hugging and caressing his relentless cock, unmatched, inexplicable. 

She was close. Perilously, dangerously close to an end like never before. She could feel the hairs along her arms stand up at attention, her eyes shut, her breathing laboured as she took in his driving cock. 

He reached between them to slip a finger over her clit, working circles, random strokes, everything it took to—

Jolted, she yelped, eyes wide, her fingers scratching down his back. “God—”

“Jaime,” he breathed down between her breasts, casually, as if introducing himself. “My name’s Jaime.”

She pushed back into him, meeting thrust with thrust, feeling herself slide closer to orgasm, nearly there, but not quite. He didn’t stop fucking her, didn’t slow down, the power, the possession, so good, so needed, so fucking consuming her. Her eyes slammed shut and she moaned, his name, this time, the sound of it, the rhythm of skin slapping against skin, pushing her over the edge into her release. His hand snaked up her ribs, to her shoulder, pinning her down as he kept thrusting, his groan, deep and needy, his end, not far away. His fingers finding her nipples, he tugged hard, and her head falling back, her body shuddering, she came, groaning out her pleasure and his name to the ceiling, feeling him buckle under the wave of spasms.

“Oh, wench,” he grunted, and a couple of thrusts later, emptied into her with a thunderous shudder that made the hair on her neck come alive once again.

He rolled off her and they lay there, panting, staring at the ceiling. And Brienne didn’t know what to make of the best sex she’d ever had. 

“You know,” she began, when he discarded the used condom into the bedside bin, the uncertainty associated with reality washing over her now that the heat of the moment had passed. “When Sansa mentioned she was going to sign me up for a night with an escort—”

“An escort?” Propping himself up on his elbow, he turned to her side, eyes narrowing in surprise, lips curving in mild amusement.

“Well, yeah—” Confused, as such she was, and his teasing reaction was only making it worse “Sansa told me I needed a good time, a man, and that she would—” Jaime smiled wider, and she felt like hitting herself, Sansa’s exact words coming back to her. “Oh fuck, no—” Terribly embarrassed, she buried her face in her hands. Her friend had never mentioned an escort, and Brienne had drawn her own conclusion, very stupidly assumed his identity, leading to this awful misunderstanding. Red-faced, she turned to him. “But if you’re not from the agency, how did you—”

“My friend Bronn set you up as a date for me,” he explained, eyes dancing all over her blushing skin with relish. “Said your friend Sansa told him you were interested in me but too shy—”

“I did— _do_ fancy you,” she shyly admitted. “When Sansa announced she had a surprise birthday gift for me, I never thought I’d get this lucky.”

“Ah, so that’s why I was instructed to pop up at your doorstep without calling.” His hand crept over hers. “Happy birthday, beautiful—”

“I’m far from beautiful,” she snapped, miffed that he was mocking her.

“You have the most astonishing eyes I’ve seen,” he whispered, reaching out to push a lock of damp hair off her forehead. “And—”

“You don’t have to lie, you know.”

“I’m not—” his eyes certainly weren’t, nor was his thumb which had now found its way to her mouth “—luscious lips, perfect breasts—”

“Shut up, Jaime!” But inside, her heart had broken into a tap-dance, his compliments leaving her with butterflies in her stomach.

“I’m serious, wench.”

“Why do you keep calling me wench?”

Tracing a casual circle around her nipple, he shrugged. “Dunno—have been wanting to call you that since I first saw you.” He drew in a deep breath, his finger wandering down to her stomach, idly circling her navel. “I’d planned to take you out to dinner someplace nice, to spend some time, but you seemed keen to skip all that and get right to—” He chuckled appreciatively. “I do love being with a woman who knows what she wants—” 

“I’m sorry—” she started, ashamed of jumping him in the kitchen.

“—for what just happened between us?”

“For the misunderstanding. For thinking you were—” Blushing when she realized she didn’t even know the full name of the man she’d ridden the ride of her life with, she asked, “So you actually are—”

“Jaime Lannister.”

“Tywin Lannister’s son?” Her insides squirmed with another bout of embarrassment. “The famous businessman—”

His fingers faltered, brows creasing into a frown. “Does it change anything?”

She thought for a moment. “No.”

“In that case—” he put on a playful tempting smile, as if goading her into surrendering to his arms again “can we do this again?”

Biting her lip, she shuffled closer. “Think about it,” she teased, her heart leaping at the thought of another round. “You’ll have to seduce me all over again.”

With a playful half-smile, he eased himself back into bed. “I need to get all the rest I can before we get down to it.”

+++++

Brienne woke up to an unbearable rumbling in her tummy and still a couple of hours to go before dawn. 

With neither of them left with the energy to cook nor the patience to order in and wait for the food to arrive, she’d fixed them a light dinner of instant noodles. They sat back in bed, relaxed and casual as if they’d known each other for years, eating and drinking, talking and laughing. Before long, he’d drifted away, while she lay sleepless for a while, gazing into the darkness, wondering where this would go next. Even if it did go nowhere, last night would be with her forever. A sweet dream. A delightful trip to the stars.

Beside her, her charming companion was still asleep, peaceful and contented, soft snores filling the room. Despite her hunger pangs, she sat up, smiling to herself, blushing when she recalled the strange, yet memorable, night she’d had. It was no ordinary night, no ordinary fuck, this was her utterly wanton night of carnal lust with a man who had plagued her mind with visions of desire and passion to a point she was beyond desperate to have him and be had by him. Countless nights, she’d tossed and turned in bed, pining for him, her fingers and her fantasies, the only gateway to solace. Every inch of her body ached with sexual pleasure, from her sore nipples, which perked up slightly to the recollection of what he’d done to them to her cunt which began to throb again with a sensual beat reminiscent of the pounding he’d treated it to.

The hunger now within her one for which she had to seek food, she got up and pulled on a shirt, feeling famished. Half-asleep, she dragged herself to the kitchen, and on switching on the lights, the first thing she caught sight of was her damp underwear and pajamas. The wistful smile returning, she took out a bowl of peaches from the fridge and began washing and skinning them. Digging her teeth into one, she closed her eyes to take in the mildly acidic sweetness, the—

“Snacking without me?”

Her hunger forgotten, her senses were quickly awakened to the presence of his gorgeous frame standing behind her. Dressed in nothing, his erection rising to its full magnificence to greet her, he sauntered in, moving closer, refreshed and rejuvenated, his _appetite_ focused on her, his intent, to feast on her. His hands instantly were upon her, working promptly to get her shirt off. His mouth and lips found her skin and she gave the fruit in her hand an involuntary squeeze, the juice trickling down his back as she felt him caress down her neck and suck hungrily at her nipple. His kisses, the licking and nibbling led to her body responding, yearning for the _more_ he’d promised, her mind far away from her stomach and turned on to the sensation between her legs, a fitting response to what was happening and what she wanted.

He took the half of the peach from her hand and brought it to her closed lips, pushing against them until she opened her mouth. The fruit gushed into her mouth, and she encountered a rush of the tangy-sweet nectar, the flesh, cool and soft against her tongue, the feeling unbearably sensual. She swallowed and licked the juice from her lips before parting them, inviting him, ready for more.

He kept feeding her, and she obliged him, her _hunger_ , aggravated with every bite she took and every drop that dribbled past her lips and ran down her chin. Not a drop he spared, licking it off her with gentle flicks of his tongue. Taking another piece, he began rubbing it against her breasts, smearing her skin with sticky nectar. She squirmed, horny as hell, her nipples hardening at the sensation of soft wetness, the thrill of the moment getting her ready for another memorable ride—erotic and sensual and sticky, an unexpected turn on.

He licked her breasts clean, patient swirls of his tongue taking care of the bits of fruit, his thirsty lips taking charge of her nipples, sucking her, taking time to ensure not a drop remained, before applying the fruit-pack all over her again, down her ribs, over her stomach, down, down—

“Jaime—”

“Shh—”

Lifting her slightly, he propped her up against the counter, and gently began rubbing the fruit against her, covering her folds with the sticky goodness. It felt as good as his tongue and yet outrageously unreal and bordering on obscene—

“Fuck,” she gasped, running her wet fingers through his hair, when she knew what was to come.

It was going to be too much to take, but she wanted him to keep going, to eat her out. And the fruit. The juice and soft flesh merged with her skin, mingling with her arousal—

And then he began to lick.

It was fucking mindblowing, the way he swirled his tongue across her and took great long laps that stretched the length of her opening to the top of her sensitive nub. He slurped at her, using his tongue expertly, drinking her in. He pressed, then released, and pushed again, applying pressure where it mattered, and she writhed and whimpered with pleasure and the pulsating urge to have his cock again. He sucked hard on her clit, and she dragged her fingers up his arms, smearing him with the fruit in her hand, moaning and breathing hard, her legs shaking. 

When his tongue went berserk, she knew her orgasm was on its way. Yet again, her body succumbed to him, and she could feel the onset of exquisite pleasure burning and building inside her, her muscles clenching in wait for the delicious explosion. The ecstasy she felt—it was such an extraordinary bliss, an out-worldly coupling of pain and pleasure. 

She nearly fell off her perch, but strong arms came to her rescue, holding her securely in place, a naughty grin greeting her when she met his eyes. “Now that you’ve had another taste of my seduction skills, can we get down to round two?”

Brienne looked down at the mess he’d made. “I need a bath first.”

Scooping her in his arms, Jaime carried her to the bathroom. “Fucking in the shower is one thing I’d like to strike off my to-do list.”

+++++

“Morning, wench,” he purred in her ear, warm and seductive.

“You’re still here?” Wishing she could stay all day curled up in his comforting embrace, Brienne snuggled closer to him. “I thought you’d—”

“Leave just like that?” His eyes had a softness that wasn’t there last night. “I’m not into one-night stands, Brienne, where you just go about the next morning as if—”

“Am I going to see you again?” she asked, trying not to be too hopeful despite his words, his eyes and his touch—all of them screaming that this was far from over.

“I’m going to let you in on a secret, darling—” Jaime pulled her closer. “I fancy you, too—” he slid his hand down her arm to link fingers with hers “—I have, for months, been secretly gazing at you from a distance, hoping to get lucky someday.”

“Well, last night's been unbelievably lucky for us both,” she whispered, pressing a kiss beneath his ear. “Why don’t we do this again next weekend?”

“We could precede it with a proper date next time—” he gazed into her eyes dreamily “—flowers and wine, dinner somewhere romantic, and then back to my place for the night?”

She smiled. “I’d love that.”

He kissed her gently on the mouth, as if to seal his word, as if to tell her she was special, and when he deepened the kiss, Brienne found herself melting into him in sweet surrender. This was her best birthday gift ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic somewhat different from the ones I usually dip my feet into. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it :)


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